Death's Watchful Vigil
by RixxiSpooks
Summary: The third time Arthur nearly died. Third one in the Death's Watchful series.


**Author's Note: Hello again guys. I just wanted to say that this story is loosely based on part of the legend of King Arthur about his pet dog which I discovered as I was looking for a name for the dog I had created when I initially began the story. It just happened to fit. Like fate or something. And everything flowed from there. You can research it if you want.**

**And a point about the last in this series which you all asked about. Merlin may have saved Arthur or he may not have. Perhaps Arther survived merely because he was tougher and more robust than the younger boy. You can decide that for yourselves. I always intended never to exactly explain his survival but lets just say someone is watching over him. I didn't know it would perplex you so much!**

**Death's Watchful Vigil **

**The third time Arthur nearly died.**

Death does not give up. Death does not decide that if it has been cheated once then it will retreat. If you are a survivor then you are a marked man – your days are numbered. The thing to remember is that, in the end, death _always _wins; it's just a matter of time.

The kitchens were a safe haven of warmth and aromatic smells. Fires flickered in the hearths providing the large area with an orangey glow and a gentle smoky atmosphere. Pans simmered and clinked on the stone cookers. Several women bustled to and fro; snipping up herbs, chopping vegetables and slicing meat. They conversed in light, amiable tones over the bubbling pots. An entire pig sizzled on a spit.

From the ceiling hung cooking utensils, copper pots and braces of a variety of animals fresh from a hunt earlier that morning. Rabbits with their tawny fur still coating their limp corpses were suspended on one wall ready for skinning.

On a large oak table in the centre of the room were the dishes which had already been prepared each waiting to be scooped up by the servers and taken into the dining hall. An entire crimson lobster lay on a bed of green salad with its huge pincers stretched out in front of it.

One of the women expertly shredded some herbs and then sprinkled them into her fishy mixture. This was a salty sauce adored by many since the Roman times which was eaten often and in copious amounts. She carelessly swept a stray hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Then she added her completed sauce to the groaning table just as the door to the kitchen opened and a servant hurried in to take through some of the plates. He ducked his head in greeting to her.

As he strode back out and the door dropped shut behind him a lithe shape slipped through the small gap and into the heat of the kitchen. The dog didn't go unnoticed by the cooks but his visits were a common occurrence and so long as he caused no bother he was permitted. Occasionally he was even offered titbits and leftovers.

Padding silently through the counters, the canine's head bobbed rhythmically and his tongue lolled from his black lips. Eventually he reached where he was headed: a small alcove at the back of the room. The way it was situated, beside the fireplace but behind a counter, meant it was out of sight unless you looked specifically. The dog stuck his nose round the corner and a hand appeared, fingers flexing before making contact with the animal's rough nose.

The creature snorted once and then squeezed into the alcove. There he was met by Prince Arthur of Camelot – bright blue eyes alight with pleasure. The boy ruffled the animal's wiry haired head, revelling in the coarseness of the fur.

This space was Arthur's private place where he came when he wanted to be alone and think. That was kind of ironic considering he was never actually alone what with the coming and going of all the servants, maids and cooks. However he liked that, to hear the sounds of daily life and inhale the sweet smells of cooking. He enjoyed trying to work out what was being eaten that day just by the scent.

Arthur could sit for hours in the alcove with his knees drawn up to his chest, deep in thought. Sometimes he would bring a book, other times he would listen to the castle gossip or just sit and ponder his life. Contrary to popular belief, Prince Arthur was a very sensitive, insightful child. He may not show that but it was because he was good at charades.

The dog, whose name was Cabal, was Arthur's most faithful companion and only true friend. He loved his master and his master loved him back with fierce loyalty. Because the young Pendragon had few people of great importance in his life with which to impart his love upon Cabal received it all unconditionally.

To begin with King Uther had believed the attachment unhealthy and had attempted to separate the two of them but Arthur had protested loudly and ferociously. Therefore Uther had to give in. The pair was inseparable.

At ten years old, Arthur should really be playing with the sons of Lords and Dukes but he had outgrown them and found them truly insufferable. Especially Rufus. He was the youngster's mortal enemy; they hated each other and could not bear to be around one another. Ever since Harry's death, Arthur had left his old crowd. He preferred to be alone. That way less people could get hurt.

And so Cabal was the Prince's playmate and eternal companion.

Running a slender hand alone the dog's hairy back, Arthur smiled to himself and scratched the animal behind the ear with his other hand. Then he whispered quietly to Cabal and the creature offered him a swift lick in return.

With the animal's warm presence beside him, the boy settled down against the stone wall and propped a book open on his lap. Cabal lay his large head down on the Prince's knee and watched him contentedly with deep brown eyes. There was nothing he liked better than to be with his young master and charge.

* * *

A clatter from the kitchen roused the pair a couple of hours later and Cabal lifted his head slightly disinterestedly. His ears pricked half-heartedly and he sniffed the air, all he received for his troubles was a whiff of tantalising human food. Saliva collected in his jaws. Glancing at his master he saw that the boy too was smelling his surroundings and craning his neck to see what was going on.

"Moira, _what _are you doing? Put that down and go clean yourself up. You're a mess."

"I'm sorry, Jemima, I…."

"I'm not looking for apologies or excuses. The King and his guests need their lunch and the Prince needs to be fed at some point to. I can't have you causing chaos in my kitchen. Go…_go…_"

"I'm going!" There was an echo of footsteps and the door shut heavily. A gust of cool air whistled through the warm room. Arthur shivered involuntarily.

He guessed it was time for him to leave if it was lunch time. His father would not be pleased if he didn't turn up to have his midday meal even though they wouldn't be dining together. They _never _dined together.

Gathering up his books and patting Cabal encouragingly, the Prince rose to his feet and scrambled out of his alcove. His dog followed shortly, yawning widely.

"Ah, Prince Arthur, your lunch will be ready soon," Jemima addressed him hurriedly but barely glanced at him as she moved on to stir some pot.

"Thank you," Arthur replied curtly and marched out of the kitchen. Cabal was right on his heels.

As he walked along the corridor, his boots clumping pleasantly on the stone floor, the young Pendragon couldn't help but hear laughter issuing from the dining hall to his left. His father was in there, entertaining all of his most recent guests. Arthur could barely remember where they were from. Perhaps it was Chester or maybe Stonehall. He couldn't remember and in all honesty he didn't really care. His father's business affairs held little interest for him.

It was when he spotted a particularly glamorously clothed woman in a leaf green dress and bedecked in jewels begin to enter the hall that Arthur was struck by a sudden irrational rebellious impulsion. He wanted to displease his father. Usually he strived to be the perfect son and always follow Uther's rule but today he didn't want to do that.

Straightening his blue tunic, the child lifted his chin and defiantly passed the room where he usually ate alone. His heart lifted with excitement as he walked confidently down the passage and then pushed open the door which led into the courtyard. Beside him, Cabal still trotted.

Prince Arthur was going to disobey his father just this once. He was going to miss lunch and do what he wanted. And what did he want to do? He wanted to go hunting, that's what.

The courtyard was deserted and the youngster easily travelled unhindered across it towards the stables. He slipped within the warm, musty building to retrieve his horse and brought the creature out completely tacked and ready to ride. This pony was his second in his life time for he had grown out of his last mount. It was larger and less docile but the Prince had learnt to be dominant and the animal would bow to his will.

As the horse tossed his slate grey head, he stamped his feet on the cobbles and snorted. This was an attempt at defiance which was immediately quashed by his master.

"Calm down, boy," Arthur patted the animal's thick neck and felt the muscles rippling beneath the smooth, warm coat.

Swinging himself deftly up into the saddle of the frisky pony, the boy kicked him into a trot and the two of them – followed by Cabal – left the castle. They were watched by several guards but the men were too lazy to bother chasing the King's son up. If he got into trouble it was hardly their problem.

* * *

And so young Arthur rode his horse with pounding hooves and wild eyes down through the village and out into the countryside. In his mind there was nothing but exhilaration and anticipation and adrenaline pumping through his veins – his heart leapt for joy. The wind which whipped passed tore at his hair like an unfriendly girl, hurt and vengeful. But even with his golden locks streaming out behind him, Arthur hardly thought. He lived in the moment.

Cabal charged along beside the pony's thundering feet, barking excitedly and racing the creature with all his energy. His slender body lurched and bounded, stretching impossibly long as he covered the rough terrain. Paws skittered and scraped on stones and twigs.

Arthur laughed with him.

Finally the trio tired of the continuous running and the Prince decided that he would slow down enough in order to begin his hunting. He would need to track with stealth and cunning to find any prey with which to take back with him. On his back hung his thin yew bow and a quiver of freshly fletched arrows.

The youth had been practicing perfecting his archery since he was five years old and now he was an extremely good shot. He did not easily miss. However, even his extraordinary skill would not be enough to execute an animal if he could not find one in the first place. Tracking was another weapon essential in a hunter's armoury.

Slipping elegantly off his horse's back, Arthur began inspecting the area around him. Loosely in his hand he held his mount's reins. For awhile the boy found nothing other than a few rabbit droppings and nibbled ferns. They held little interest for him. He wanted to capture something bigger like a stag. Eventually though, his luck did pay out and his sharp eyes caught sight of an important clue.

The ground had been scuffed slightly by some reasonably pointed object. This clue was almost imperceptible and Arthur only recognised it because of the slight tang of freshly turned soil in the air and the minute change of colour in the mud. His experience was crucial in the discovery.

Judging by the markings, the boy could not determine exactly animal he was following but he knew it hadn't passed through the area that long ago.

Whistling for Cabal, he offered the dog the scent and then the two set off.

* * *

It became apparent quite quickly the identity of the prey which Arthur was seeking. He had found some broken twigs and trampled bushes which signalled he was on the right track. They also suggested this was something reasonably big. But the huge giveaway factor was the grooves that he found on a tree trunk.

Enormous gauges exposed the green flesh of the tree and splinters of wood hung in disarray. Arthur knew immediately what had made these kinds of marks and his heartbeat upped eagerly. A boar had made these gashes which spewed the tree's life blood into the soil. His tusks were vicious, lethal weapons that could gore a man with a single swipe.

However, Arthur spared no thought for that. All he thought about was how proud his father might be should he bring the beast back.

"Come on, Cabal, we can catch that boar!"

The boar was a test, a lure, a trap sent by Death. Its design was purely to entice the young, blood thirsty prince to his own demise.

* * *

In the pinkish-orange sky the sun was setting lazily behind the black silhouetted mountains. Casting pastel colours across the world with the ebbs of its last light, the glowing ball diminished slowly. Shadows fell across Prince Arthur's regal face as he surveyed the scene before him.

It was late and he should probably be returning home but yet he had still not captured and killed that boar. The creature had eluded him this entire time and the youth was weary and frustrated. He wanted to have something to show for all this time spent hunting – a trophy for his labour. Cabal was tiring too, his head hung low to the ground and his rough, rose-tongue lolling.

Arthur bent down and ruffled the dog's stiff hair on top of his head. The animal leaned into his touch and turned his head to offer his master a wet but loving lick. Displaying a rare side to himself, the prince planted a soft kiss on the canine's nose, looking into Cabal's gentle brown eyes as he did so.

"Do you want to go back home?"

Cabal whined in reply.

"I'll take that as a yes." Arthur smiled wryly.

He was just about to remount his horse and return to Camelot when he heard a grunt. His head swivelled round, eyes scanning the area. Cabal's ears pricked up and his snout rose into the air. He had also sensed something.

And then Arthur spotted what he had been tracking all day. It had to be one of the ugliest creatures the boy had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes upon: with dirty, matted brown fur which hung in unhealthy tufts and clumps about its body; satanic cloudy eyes set deep into its wrinkled face; sticky drool glistening on its lips and deadly tusks protruded from its mouth. One of the white blades was chipped but would still prove just as useful with its jagged end.

The Prince froze in shock and that was all it took. Everything happened at once.

Arthur's horse bolted, flying across the grass like the gates of hell had opened and all the demons were on its tail – they may well have been. Seeing this, the devil-boar lurched forwards with fierce, unforgiving eyes and headed straight for the youth. Stunned, the prince dropped his bow. Cabal shot from his side and collided with the monster head on just as Arthur allowed a terrified scream to be ripped from his lungs.

This all happened just as the sun dropped beyond the horizon and cast a blood red glow upon the land.

Cabal was knocked from his feet by the charging beast and he let out a yelp of pain as he was thrown limply to one side. His body skidded along the pebble strewn ground. Now the boar advanced on Arthur, its tusks coated glinting in the light. The boy scrambled to try and find something to protect himself but the animal was unbelievably, unnaturally fast. It hurled itself at the human and caught the soft skin of his stomach with its sharp tusk.

Arthur let out a cry of agony and bent double.

He had no time to relax though as the boar was advancing again. Its attack was relentless and Arthur had no idea why it was so intent on killing him in the first place. It made no sense. Your prey wasn't supposed to attack _you_!

Looking at the beast, Arthur was sure he was looking at his own death. This creature was about to finish him off and there was nothing he could do about it. Feeling utterly hopeless, the boy waited for the inevitable.

Out of the corner of his eye though, he spotted something. Cabal. The dog had scrambled to his feet and, despite the pain and exhaustion, found purchase on the stones on the ground. With a strangled bark, Cabal catapulted himself through the air and landed on the boar's hairy back just as it was about to kill Arthur. The dog went straight for the jugular. He wasn't messing about where his master's life was concerned.

Blood spurted into the sky, spraying anything and everything in wet warmth. Arthur spat some out of his mouth as it hit him. Cabal had severed the boar's main artery. However, in a last ditch attempt to save its own life, the wild animal had managed to take its own murderer to the grave with it. A flailing tusk had completely gutted the unprotected underbelly of the dog.

Both animals fell lifelessly to the ground as their lives spilled a scarlet stain around them.

* * *

Arthur watched in silent horror. His blue eyes widened with shock and grief before he leapt to his dying friend's aid.

"Cabal? Cabal!"

The boy gently dragged his faithful friend away from the ugly monster and then desperately tried to revive him. He stroked and patted, begged and threatened, cried over and hugged but nothing could rouse the canine. Cabal was too far gone.

"Come on, Cabal, don't die on me! Please. Don't. You're my only friend."

Arthur stared with watery eyes at his pet. Cabal gazed back up at him and blinked once before he closed his lids forever. The Prince let out a wretched howl and held the still warm corpse of his dog to him.

Eventually spent and realising that he needed to return home, the boy clambered wearily to his feet and placed Cabal's limp head gently back on the ground. That was when he noticed the stone. It was a rather plain stone, beforehand there would have been nothing significant or special about it, however, now there was a rare imprint in the centre. A dog's paw print. Arthur had no idea how that was possible, he supposed Cabal must have created it with his huge leap to his master's aid. The pressure must have been immense to indent stone. Still, it had happened and it was left behind - a part of Cabal.

Struck with sudden inspiration, the child scrambled around to set his plan into motion.

An hour later a shallow pit had been dug in the ground and Arthur had laid his dead companion in there. Then he covered it back up. Above the grave, the boy piled up some stones and placed the imprinted rock on top. There, now his dear friend would never be forgotten and would hopefully always be protected just like he had protected Arthur.

Arthur named the spot Carn Cabal and he vowed from that day never to get attached to another person or animal.

* * *

When he returned home, muddied and injured (the wound was fortunately superficial) the boy was punished by his father severely but he just didn't have the heart to care anymore. He was a broken child.

Nevertheless, in memory of his deceased dog, the Prince of Camelot had a necklace fashioned of amber. It was shaped like a tooth to remind him of the canine who had used his teeth to save Arthur's life at the cost of his own. He could have just run away like the horse but he didn't; he stayed, fought and protected. In the future, the young man would always draw strength from the necklace that symbolised that brave animal. He would always wear it.

Death knew there were plenty more encounters with this particular youth to come and it was only a matter of time before his luck and his string of protectors ran out. Then Death would be ready with a welcoming hand.

**I hope you felt for poor young Arthur and Cabal! He's lost yet another friend!**


End file.
